in the heat of passion? As far as I can remember,
the quarrel, which took place between us on the evening prior to the
murder, has been correctly described. When I left him he struck me
down. Gentlemen, I am not a weak man, but a strong man. If it was my
desire to do him bodily harm, should I not be likely to do it then? We
were there alone. As far as I knew, no eye was watching us, and
naturally my passions would be roused by the cowardly blow he struck
me; but I did nothing. I, so it was said, uttered a threat that I
would be equal with him for this blow which he had struck, and then
went away. Then, the learned counsel has urged, after I had walked
nearly two miles back to my own home, after I had dressed for dinner, I
waited until midnight, and then, with cool calculation, went out to
kill this man. Can anyone in his senses believe such a thing?
Besides, think of another thing. I was in a position to laugh at
Wilson's enmity. I had won an eminent position in the town of my
adoption. I had risen from obscurity to be a member of Parliament for
that town. I had made a speech in the House of Commons which had
attracted notice throughout the whole country. I was the subject of
leading articles in newspapers. What was Wilson's enmity to me? I
could have afforded to have left Brunford altogether. I could have
lived in London, where I need never have seen him. Was I likely,
then--not in a moment of mad passion, mark you--not in resentment for a
coward's blow which had been struck immediately before, but after seven
hours--was I likely to go out into the dead of the night to kill him?
Forgive me for urging this matter, but the question of motive must come
in, and to say that this deed was the outcome of a long personal feud
is, under the circumstances, preposterous. Is this link in the chain
strong enough to hold? Nay, is it a link at all? And does not the
chain break in consequence?"

It was at this point that Paul held both judge and jury strongly. I
know I altogether fail to convey the impression he made. In cold
print, while his words may seem reasonable, and even forcible, they
only give a hint at their power when they were uttered as he uttered
them.

The next point with which he dealt was with that of the knife. This
knife, known to be Paul's, was found driven through Edward Wilson's
heart, driven from behind. And it had been used with great skill by
the counsel for the prosecution. He had